Mokkan felt the pull of the current. Knocking water rats aside, he dashed to the stern of the boat. "Paddle for your lives! Keep to the center stream! Go! Go!" Slashing left and right with his ax, the Marlfox slew a toad and a frilled newt who were clinging to the after end. Powered by panic-stricken rats, the logboat shot off downriver.
It was long after midnight when Fenno risked moving a limb. Shutting his ears to the horrible screams of a water rat whom the reptiles had captured, he crawled off stealthily through the undergrowth.
Mokkan forced his remaining nine rats to paddle all night. They halted at dawn on the bank of a dry sunburned field, but before he allowed them to eat, drink, or tend their wounds, the Marlfox had them spread the precious tapestry out on the grass. "Clean it, brush the edges well and make sure the fringe isn't tangled. It must be kept in perfect condition for High Queen Silth. It is a thing of rare beauty!"
Mokkan posted two guards, then choosing a shady spot he spread his cloak and lay down to rest, thinking of Fenno and the fate he would suffer in the hold of the merciless reptiles. Mokkan felt slightly cheated. He had planned on killing Fenno himself.
Raventail surprised even himself. When he and his cohorts went out scouring the countryside to the north and east, they recruited nearly one hundred assorted vermin. Naturally, the Marlfoxes had promised Raventail anything his avaricious heart desired. Armaments, food, power, even the rule of a conquered Redwall. Vannan had assured the barbarian ferret that Marlfoxes had no need of the Abbey, because their home was in another place. She explained that the reason Redwall had to fall was because their creatures had murdered two of her kin. Raventail figured that there would be a catch to the agreement somewhere, but his overpowering greed got the better of him. Besides, he reasoned, with a hundred at his command he could always turn the tables on his strange allies. Raventail was not a stupid beast. He took note of the fact that Vannan had made a serious mistake in her talks with him. She had admitted that Marlfoxes could be slain.
Vannan, Ascrod and Predak sat surrounded by their water rat soldiers, watching the vermin horde dancing and chanting around a blazing log. Evening shadows, combined with the eerie flicker of flames, cast a wild and primitive air on the proceedings. Weasels, stoats and ferrets leapt and stamped, pounding the earth until a dustcloud rose around them, flinging their weapons high in the air and catching them expertly as they wailed their killing chants.
"Who be death? We be death!
Here's d'blade wot stop yore breath!
Kye arr rakkachakka whummwhummwhumm!
Plunder good! Slayin' good!
These d'blades wot shed yore blood!
Kye arr rakkachakka whummwhummwhumm!"
Over and over they repeated the chant, getting faster and louder as the tempo of their frenzied dance increased. There was a contemptuous, if slightly nervous, edge to Ascrod's tone as he viewed the primeval proceedings. "Stupid savages. What do they think they're doing?"
The flames reflected in Vannan's pale, immobile eyes. "Working themselves into a blood frenzy, of course, brother. Here comes Raventail. Don't refer to them as stupid savages while he's around. Greetings, Chief Raventail. You have done well, my friend, these are true warriors you have brought us!"
The ferret cast a swift sidelong glance at Ascrod, as if he had heard the Marlfox's insulting remark. Twirling his scimitar deftly, he thwacked it into the ground a mere whisker away from Ascrod's paw. The Marlfox twitched. Raventail's red and black daubed face leered at him momentarily, then he turned away to address Vannan.
"Kyre arr, magicfox, desebeasts ready for warfight, muchslay muchkill, bettersoon we go fightnow, fight-now!"
Predak and Ascrod looked to Vannan. "Now?"
The vixen stood, drawing her ax. "Well, they won't get it done chanting and dancing here. What better time than now? 'Twill be full dark when we reach the Abbey. Our scouts report that they have been celebrating a victory. This is the time they'll least expect us."
Chapter 25
Abbey bells boomed softly on the still warm air over Redwall. Grandma Ellayo, in company with Sister Sloey, halted their evening stroll by the northeast wallcorner. Janglur turned from the battlements, a half-smile in his lazy eyes. "Now then, ole Mother, don't ye go breakin' into a gallop down there. Supper'11 be about ready, time ye get to Cavern Hole."
Ellayo shook her stick at her impudent offspring. "If'n my rheumatiz would let me climb yon wallsteps I'd tan yore tail for ye, Janglur baybelly!"
Skipper winked at Rusvul. He admired the feisty old squirrel. "Haharr, that'd be a sight t'see, mate. Stop there, marm, an' I'll come down an' lend ye a paw. A spot o' tannin' wouldn't go amiss on this son of yores!"
Ellayo shook her head, smiling up at the otter Chieftain. "Aren't you three comin' inside for supper? Me'n'Sister Sloey baked a great blackberry jam roly poly pudden this afternoon."
Rusvul Reguba gnawed his lip regretfully. "With pear'n'honey sauce, too, I'll wager. Trouble is, by the time we got down there, marm, ole Florian forkbottom would've scoffed the lot!"
Sister Sloey, normally quite a sedate old mouse, broke out into hoots of laughter. "Whoohoohoo! Florian forkbottom, that's a good 'un. Whoohoohoo!"
Ellayo turned Sloey in the direction of the Abbey, lecturing her with mock severity. "Now now, Sister, that's not very nice. Don't you dare call that pore hare Florian forkbottomleastways, not afore I do. Heehee!"
"Don't forget us three 'ungry beasts up 'ere, ladies," Janglur called after the retreating figures. "See if'n ye can get supper sent out to us, please."
Ellayo waved her stick in acknowledgment.
Skipper turned back to the wall, leaning his chin on it. "Hmm, it don't look like there's much doin' out there t'night, mates. Quiet as a butterfly's bedroom 'tis."
Rusvul tested his javelin point lightly. "Makes me nervous when it's this quiet. What d'ye say, Jang?"
"Y'could be right, messmate. I don't like it meself, too silent."
Skipper was not a creature who favored inactivity. Pacing restlessly up and down the ramparts, he checked his sling and javelin. Janglur and Rusvul were older than the otter, more used to biding their time throughout the long hours of sentry duty. Rusvul watched Skipper testing the longbow strings and counting the arrows for the second time that night. "Skip, will you stop hoppin' about like you got a thistle under yore jerkin? What's up, matey?"
The big otter eyed Mossflower's vast thickness. Not even a leaf was stirring on the still air. "There's somethin' brewin' out there, Rus. Me whiskers are startin' to twitch, an' that's a bad sign. My ole whiskers ain't ever let me down yet!"
Janglur's hooded eyes stayed intent on a new sling he was braiding. "I know the feelin', mate. What are ye goin' t'do about it?"
"A quiet liddle look around out there wouldn't go amiss."
Stretching the sling against his footpaw, Janglur nodded. "So be it, if'n that's what y'want. We'll let you out by the east wallgate an' keep our eyes skinned for ye comin' back."
As the small door closed behind him the otter Chieftain slid off among the trees, armed with only his sling and stonepouch. He threaded his way southeast, using all his natural ability as a hunter, silent and capable.